


Too Young

by dovingbird



Category: The Protomen
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's too tough and he's too fiery and he's way too young. But that's good. It's a better deterrent than the fact that everything about his heart screams Emily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Young

He's too young.  
  
He's too tough and he's too fiery and he's _way_ too young. But that's good. It's a better deterrent than the fact that everything about his heart screams Emily.  
  
Different people, the both of them, not a single similarity between them physically. Emily was a porcelain redhead with the most brilliant navy blue eyes, and Joe's a dark-haired-dark-skinned-dark-eyed boy with a slightly teased afro. She wore tank tops and sweats, he wears fitted jeans and a crisp leather jacket.  
  
But there's something there. Right in the eyes.  
  
It's the exact same gleam of raw, unbridled anger.  
  
They're hard at work, and will be for hours yet. If Tom's a genius about robots, then Joe's the god of explosives, and he's leaning over the rickety table in this abandoned garage with his tongue poking out from between his lips. His brow is furrowed, his jacket has been abandoned, and he's moving slowly, so slowly, weighing out proportions without breathing. There's tension in the air. It's burning Tom to the bone.  
  
It's been over twenty years since he's been this close to another human being. He'd forgotten what it sounded like to have something breathing nearby. To smell something other than smoke on the air.  
  
"Hey Doc?"  
  
Tom glances up from Joe's hands.  
  
"Come hold this for me before the roof gets blown sky high, yeah?"  
  
He does as he's told, letting Joe show him the exact way to hold the wiring before he gets back to mixing.  
  
He'd forgotten what body heat felt like too. He hasn't been this close to another man since working with Wily, since sculpting machines out of nothing, since-  
  
He flushes everything from his mind before anxiety can set in.  
  
He glances toward Joe, watches a bead of sweat drip down from his temple, and when Joe meets his eyes with a quirked brow he remembers that society doesn't often believe in openly staring at someone you don't know, especially when you're barely a few inches apart from them. He looks away. Studies the bomb they're working on.  
  
"They say..."  
  
Tom makes a soft sound of inquisition.  
  
"...they say...you killed her."  
  
Acid pools in his stomach.  
  
"That it was your...machine that did it. Light's Monster."  
  
His hands start shaking, and when Joe starts to close the roughly hammered-out cover he's more than happy to step away.  
  
"I, uh...I don't think I ever believed it, though. I really don't think anybody did."  
  
"It was a long time ago." Tom snorts. "Probably before you were born."  
  
"Yeah, well..." He shrugs and laces his fingers behind his neck. "You can always kinda tell when somebody's bullshitting, y'know? When the whole damn city's bullshitting." And then he wanders over and cocks his head to the side, extending an arm to ever so lightly grab Tom by the back of the neck. "So whaddya say? Wanna go set it right? Give that son of a bitch what he deserves?"  
  
He's strong and he's brave and he's too beautiful of a kid to throw his lot in with Tom's, but he won't be convinced otherwise. It's written right there on his face. He may not understand everything, may not know what life used to be like before Albert Wily sank his claws into the earth, may not even fully comprehend what he's fighting for...but he has the most incredible heart.  
  
Emily would have loved him.  
  
Tom lets his fingers linger on the back of Joe's neck too, holding his eyes, knowing his heart should be pounding right now as they go to certain death, both of them, but also knowing that his emotions gave up so long ago. He's forty-five, but he might as well be ninety. And he's lived long enough. So if he's going to blaze up, go out in flames, it might as well be beside someone with an inferno in his eyes.  
  
"As long as you remember one thing," Tom murmurs. "Wily's mine."  
  
Joe purses his lips in thought before inclining his head. "You get one shot. And then I'm taking him down myself. Deal?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
He grabs Tom's other hand, squeezing it so tightly that all the circulation drains out of it, but there's something in Tom that doesn't want to let go. But they must.  
  
They have a job to do.


End file.
